


Winter's Tough Yet Spring's A'comin'

by aurulae



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Families of Choice, Five Stages of Grief, Getting to Know Each Other, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, more tags as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:26:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurulae/pseuds/aurulae
Summary: (2nd Chapter UPDATED/OVERHAULED: 10/26/17)There is very little beauty to be found in the wasteland. Blood and grime and death abound making it hard to trust, hard to love.After Quincy, Preston isn't sure what he is going to do with himself. It seems unlikely he will ever stop running from the past and even more unlikely that he will get his charges to a safe place before he is left all alone, or dead.Enter one Crissy Cross, a normally peaceful trauma surgeon turned hellion after her son is kidnapped one hot wasteland afternoon. Watching this woman absolutely slaughter a pack of raiders in order to get her son back has Preston Garvey thinking that maybe, just maybe, there is some beauty in this wasteland after all.---Or the one where everyone needs a hug, I vent my issues on Marcy, and the wasteland take everyone for a Nuka World ride they did not ask for! Woot!





	1. Into the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Shaun is a seven-ish year old boy, not a synth and not kidnapped by the institute. Nate is here too and he is an ass, you'll see later~  
> I am not a doctor, I will just state that now, I will do research and make things sound plausible, just go with it, please-thanks *hides face*
> 
> Preston needs love, this is a Preston friendly fic, Preston is a good boy!
> 
> 9/21/17: I've massively reconstructed this fic, re-writing the first chapter and changed the overall theme of this fic. It was severely depressing me before and I couldn't come back to it. Opps. It's much better now, well, I hope it is! XD
> 
> I'm uploading two chapters to make up for the mess!  
> Though they are only roughly edited...at 5 am.  
> So all mistakes are my own, let me know if I make any glaring issues~
> 
> ENJOY~! *jazz hands*

Concord had seemed like a good idea. Correction, a workable idea, because Preston refused to acknowledge any of his ideas as good since Quincy. The minuteman sawed his teeth together, bitting down along the sides of his tongue as he went and agitating the ache already blooming throughout his jaw. The pain in his mouth momentarily distracted from the bone-deep agony shooting from ankle to knee, among other issues, his feet were blistered and bruised and wading through the mire to outrun a particularly hungry yao guai had left his boots soggy. He had to throw out the socks, he would only be asking for trouble by keeping them on. No replacements meant blisters and forgoing his wet socks was looking more and more like a terrible idea. 

The group at his back were dragging their feet. The slow scuffles against concrete made an irritating hiss in the quiet night air. Preston turned slightly, looking over the two men closest to him. One do-good kid who had been on his way to join the Minutemen when all hell broke loose in Quincy. Upon running into them, he had offered to assist Preston aiding the civilians he had with him. Alan had been full of energetic hope until the wasteland fully asserted it’s self in the boys' life. 

On Preston’s other side was Sturges, the big man was looking as world-worn as Preston felt, he looked near tears too. He had been close to Alan’s younger brother, who had sadly been lost to the yao guia earlier that morning. Sturges had promised to teach the kid his trade so he could get himself a job no matter where he roamed, after all, everyone needed a mechanic. Preston suspected the man was feeling guilty for the boys loss, clinging to the welding goggles for all he was worth since the incident.

Somewhere behind him, Marcy let out an obnoxiously heavy, overly loud sigh for the ninth time in as many minutes. Her husband, Jun, tried to placate her quietly, as he had been trying to do all day, but to no avail. The shuffling paused only for a second before small smothered groans met his ears. These people were tired and wary, they deserved some rest, some time to mourn and digest all that had happened. They didn’t have a safe place to stop, not yet. Preston wanted to reach the Museum in Concord before they settled down for proper rest. He had been there before, had been on supply runs where he and his fellow Minutemen had rested under its roof. However, as Marcy let out another all-consuming sigh, Preston decided it would be worth it to stop if only to momentarily appease the women.

“Alright,” His voice was rough from the disuse of the past few hours and he cleared his throat to try again. “Look, I know we’re all tired. We aren’t at our destination yet, but,” He raised his voice for Marcy looked about ready to interject. “Let’s do a quick sweep and if everything is clear we can rest before we make it the rest of the way.”

Sturges dropped his pack at once and sat on it, eyes glazing over as he stared at the goggles. Alan looked worriedly down at the man, glancing up at Preston with a questioning look. Preston merely nodded his head toward the other side of the street, indicating he start doing the sweep there. As the kid wondered off, Preston watched Finnegan and Rabbit split, following his instructions without question as they had since the group had left Quincy. He watched absently until the tall barrel of Rabbit’s over-sized rile disappeared behind a building. That left the Longs and Mama Murphy. It was honestly a miracle that the old lady had survived, or perhaps more than that. He caught her looking at him with that expression that usually meant trouble. 

“What do you know Mama?” Preston asked softly, nudging a bit of concrete over and onto a scuttling little radroach. He shivered at the unpleasant squelching sound it made. There wasn’t much of anything out and about. A few radroaches and the occasional bloat fly. This would be a fine place to rest for now. Preston thought idly of wrapping his feet before they set off again.

The old women chuckled, saying nothing until Preston turned to her. Eyes closed and grinning, Mama Murphy seemed to be enjoying soaking up the sun like a cat. “Hm, oh, well, I know many things.”

Preston chuckled at her coy tone. “Of course.”

"My boy, there is much in your future. I've a feeling, we will be meeting with change soon. A great, warm, wonderful change! Just look out for something bright green." Mama smiled happily up at Preston. "I hope it will make you happy." 

“Nothin’ here boss,” Finnegan’s voice floated suddenly between them, starting Preston out of his confusion and unease. 

Alan returned, settling awkwardly down next to Sturges and as he didn’t seem ruffled or concerned in the slightest, Preston assumed his area was secure. All they were lacking was Rabbit, but if anything was wrong they would be alerted by the rumble of her weapon. 

Preston and Finnegan sat a bit apart from the others, Preston swiping his pinned hat off his head and patting at the sweat that had accumulated there with a well worn handkerchief. Finnegan raised his hip flask and took a swig of something strong. The minuteman reminded himself that when they were safe he should ask the other man to share his brew. 

It had been a pleasant few minutes with the sun shining softly through billowing off-white clouds, the gentle breeze cutting through the otherwise humid air and the stillness of the moment where no one was being shot at or bleeding out or crying. 

Preston should have known everything was about to go to shit. 

The click, click, click, of Rabbit’s boots sounded like miniature gunshots as the women bounded over to him. Once close enough to Preston, Rabbit held her gloved hand out. In it were three large caliber bullets. He frowned and looked down at the eyes peeking out at him from under an enormous hood. Rabbit shook her fist, letting the bullets rattle together. Those bright eyes rolled and the women snatched Preston’s hand and put his fingers to the still warm shells.

Preston briefly wondered when, if ever, he had heard the small women speak before the situation before him registered.

_Warm Bullets. Hostile Territory. Danger!_

“Which direction?” He asked quickly.

Rabbit pointed in the direction of the Museum and Preston swore. Of course, the hostiles would be in the direction of his safe house. Everyone had gone still as a mannequin, listening for any signs of trouble. And then, as if they had summoned it, the sounds of many people yelling met their ears and a heartbeat later an angry, blood-curdling scream wrenched the air. 

Then, all hell broke loose. 

Something exploded. The sight of greenish-yellow fire and deep emerald smoke gave Preston pause, for a moment he just stared. Lost to the odd color and the sensation of wrong that he got form it. As if by instinct he knew to avoid it. Granted it, most green things in the wasteland were deadly and usually precluded rad sickness to some degree. Another scream rents the air, words being rained down upon some unfortunate souls. On its tail was the sound of heavy gunfire and answering cries, vulgar and disgusting and distinctively raider. 

Preston hardly had to look around, everyone was up on their feet with weapons ready. He quickly popped a new cartridge into his laser rife and addressed the group. Sturges had come out of his funk and held a shotgun ready. 

“Sturges, stay with the Longs and Mama Murphy. Find a building and be ready for anything.” Sturges looked like he wanted to argue but clamped his mouth shut and nodded, hurrying the three away. 

“You won't believe this.” Alan hissed, his voice slightly hysterical. Preston had to look around for a minute and only found the boy when Rabbit pointed upward with the butt of her rifle. The kid was on a nearby roof. How he had gotten up there was a mystery for later. “There’s about twelve, nope, eleven raiders out there. Right outside the museum too, damn! They’re all hunkered down good, like, you’d think there was a small army against them - oh shit!”

There was another explosion and Alan withdrew the binoculars from his eyes as a flash of fierce white light lit up the area. Preston raised a brow as Alan jumped back down to the group, blinking his eyes furiously but grinning like mad.

“There ain’t an army, guys, haha, guys,” His laughter was bright and vibrant and not befitting the situation, in Preston's opinion. The others seemed just as agitated by his reaction if Finnegan's crossed arms were any indictions. Either oblivious to this or not giving a damn, Alan continued to grin around at them. “They’re all acting like idiots, I mean more so than usual for raiders, of course, but, see, see, there’s this woman out there!” He breathed the word woman like it was a prayer, clasping his hands together and beaming more than he was a moment ago. Preston was afraid is face was about to split in two.

Rabbit tapped her foot at Alan impatiently, though her bright eyes betrayed her interest. 

Alan smirked. “So, see, on that roof just past this buildin’ ‘er, there is this woman set up with about every explosive imaginable and she is just, ha, just chucking um at them raiders. It is such a beautiful sight. She looks like hellfire incarnate! Those poor, poor bastards. HA!”

Preston thought, just perhaps, Concord had been a bad idea on his part…


	2. Hell Hath no Fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got a lil outta hand, but it was fun to write.  
> No one messes with Shaun. The wasteland is not prepared to handle Crissy Cross *cackles*
> 
> Not fully edited, sorry 'bout any mistakes.

Concord had been a bad idea. Leaving Sanctuary at all had been ill-advised in and of its self but supplies were needed and Codsworth had said there were people. Granted, he had also said those people had shot at him so, really, what had she expected? Crissy huffed out a breath, withholding a colorful string of curses, as she lined up her sights on the crew below. 

It hadn’t started out so bad. Crissy had bundled Shaun up, grabbed her rifle, and shuffled out of their little gritty, crumbling community of Sanctuary Hills. Shaun had pressed close to her body, little hand clutching hers for dear life as his wide eyes took in the sight of their new world. She had watched him silently, observing his open, expressive face with sadness rolling in her gut. 

Crissy had had plans to send Shaun to the best school in the state, to give him everything she could to ensure a prosperous future for her little boy. There had been a short list, but Crissy made it her mission to visit every school, to talk to the teachers, to ensure which group of people would be the best influences in her little boy's life. She had admittedly intimidated a fair few of the staff she questioned, but that just helped cull the list further. Shaun needed teachers who were strong of mind and backbone. 

He was terribly smart, far an above most of his peers, and she knew that regular schooling would never challenge him in the ways Shaun needed. He enjoyed anything that had to do with math and mechanics and had begun taking various appliances in their household apart as soon as he could find a way to them. Without any prompting, Shaun had taken the toaster apart, laid out each part, drawn them and labeled them, then worked ceaselessly to put it back together perfectly. 

At first, it was jarring, watching her child work on the toaster like soldiers had worked on their guns. Mindlessly running fingers over small pieces, knowing just by touch when something wasn’t just so. Shaun cleaned everything with a focus few human beings ever hoped to have. His attention to even the smallest details both endearing and frustrating. He needed someone who could keep him busy, mind and body, and who could sit and work on one project for a month if that is what it took. Very few people had that kind of patience or dedication. 

By hook or by crook, however, Crissy was going to find that person, that school, that place where her boy could flourish. 

Now, however, all her big plans for Shaun were dashed. Now, instead of school and trying to find an after-school program to maybe make Shaun some friends, she was on the lookout for unsavory people and creatures of the human-eating variety. Green eyes darted around at every sound, every soft whistle of wind was a probable danger. 

The Pipboy helped, she watched for little red dots, watched some shuffle in and out of the viewfinder until they disappeared altogether. Shaun would look to her occasionally, gaging his mother's expression, pinched and concerned as it was. He seemed to want to ask her something but either couldn’t find the words or thought better of them. 

It did not take long to reach the city of Concord and the pair just stood for a moment, drinking in the wreckage and the unnerving silence. Concord had never been anything less than bustling. The state of utter abandonment and rot was startling. Even as she stared down the street toward the Museum of History, Crissy could hear the sound of shuffling feet, cars roaring down the street, the constant hum of chatter, and more. 

Licking her lips and looks about the shops, Crissy pulled Shaun close as they crept into a corner store. It was a good place to start looking for food and supplies, at least, in theory. As she began looking about it became obvious that the place had been picked over. There were scraps, of course, some leftover clothing, linens, and a few couch pillows that were ignored in favor of what was stored in the cupboards.

There was also a skull in an upstairs bathroom toilet that sent both of them into a mild tizzy. Shaun had never seen anything like it. The skeleton that had fallen next to the toilet, curled up and broken and so sad. Crissy was all too familiar with death but this was on another level entirely as she recognized the well-loved watch amid the bones. It belonging to the old storekeeper, Mr. Banksley, who would always give her a little extra with her purchases, who always told her terrible jokes just to get her to smile on her bad days, whose wife, Dolly, had made the most delicious salted caramel by hand every morning. It had been the highlight of her day during her pregnancy, when she craved the stuff like an addict craved his poison.

She pocketed the watch with reverence. There was another skeleton in a chair by the back window and it was unmistakably Dolly. Shaun didn’t mention the tears rolling down Crissy’s red cheeks as he led them back downstairs. There was nothing else of use there and Crissy needed to get away from the painful familiarity posthaste. 

“Mama!” Shaun’s voice was small and scared. He had stopped at the bottom step and was looking into the shop proper, green eyes wide with fright. 

Three men had stepped into the blasted out shop while they had been upstairs. These men looked wiry and too thin to be healthy, but dangerous nonetheless. Each wore a disgusting grin, full of rotten teeth and utter malice. One gave her a once over and whistled. It was enough to shock her brain into action again.

Crissy grabbed for Shaun as the tallest of the men lunged for the boy. Shaun shouted and kicked out at the man as Crissy tried to haul him back up the stairs but a hand come between the broken slats of the banister and latched on to her arm, twisting sharply to the left. She cried out and her grip on Shaun was gone. 

The banister’s wood was splintered and charred. It stood out like the teeth of an angry monster. Crissy threw all her weight behind her and drove the arm of her assailant into the jagged wood as hard as she could. He screamed in agony as his entire forearm was held fast, thick pieces of timber preventing any escape. Which was fine, he wasn’t going to live long enough to pull himself from the wood anyway. 

Between the initial shock of the men's arrival and her short-lived flight back up the stairs, Crissy had slipped her hunting knife from its place in her boot. The man who had grabbed her was yelling threats that soon turned into wet, ragged sputters as Crissy plunged the knife into his throat. It took a bit of effort getting the damn blade back out of the man’s flesh, but at a high pitched scream from Shaun she surged back with the bloodied blade in hand and all but jumped the final few steps to the floor below.

Just as she flew around the corner, blood pumping in her ears like her own personal anthem, a scattering of hot metal went whizzing by. It was only thanks to her years in the army and her field training that she had recognized the sound of a reloading gun. Her body came to an abrupt halt as her mind still drove ahead, leaving her momentarily dizzy.

“Take ‘him, take the boy an’ go. It’s only one woman-” Crissy took a few deep breaths, she needed to focus, calm down, or she would make mistakes, and anything could cost her little boy his life. She focused on the man’s voice. The accent was thick, coming from an uneducated mouth or possibly one that didn’t have enough teeth to properly enunciate, or both. Both were entirely possible. Apparently, the pair didn’t realize their friend was dead to rights as they kept talking as easy as you please. “No ah don’t giv’a rats ass about what ‘e wants. Nill and I’ll give her hell and come find ya. It’s the brat ‘e wants, couldn’t blood well tell ya why, and he ‘an find another bitch any ol’were.” Crissy grimaced. Nice to see some people didn’t change. “Now get goin’ before he brings that bloody lizard outta it’s hidey hole wit all that yellin’, get!”

Crissy took another slow breath and looked around the corner. The man who had been talking, a short, older man with a severe burn along his shoulders and the back of his head watched as Shaun and his man walked from the shop. “Waist of time. Wot he playin’ at?” The man seemed to have all day, probably laying his faith with the now dead man who had just drowned in his own blood. She swept silently forward and to the side, placing herself behind one of the structural pillars in the room. “Ain’t that hard to make a damn baby if ya want one that bad, Christ! Nill! Nill? Where the bloody hell- if you took that bitch to bed I swear!” 

Crissy found herself making a face of utter disgust at the mere thought of laying with this Nill fellow. She quickly brushed the thought away as the older men cried out in alarm. Crissy rushed at him, knife out for a quick strike. Only, she didn’t get that far. The man was wicked fast, faster than he had any right to be, and got right out of her way. Stumbling to the side and sneering something nasty.

When he turned to face her, Crissy froze. His visage was a horrible wreck. He looked like he had been in a terrible fire. Half the flesh on his face was drawn taught and whirled, his eye on his burned side was discolored with popping red veins and yellowed scalara, and oh his nose, it was missing entirely! Nothing but an open hole where cartilage had been removed, burned away she figured. The scaring went over his shoulders and under his dirty shirt and ragtag armor. 

The man struck out, hard, while she was distracted, sending Crissy reeling. He had nothing but a wooden board in his hand, had smacked her good upside the head and Crissy felt pain bloom across her temple. Something had impaled its self there, a nail most likely. He laughed madly and muttered something she couldn’t quite catch over the ringing in her ears. 

“-ganna kill you good and dead, you filthy little,” He swung the board up and, sure enough, there were dozens of nails poking out of the end aimed at her. It was so crude, so barbaric. “I should just kill that brat, this job ain’t worth the fucking caps!” 

Nothing made much sense since Crissy had stepped out of the cryo chamber, nothing but Shaun. Nothing but protecting her boy from anything this new world was to throw at them. The thought of this man doing any harm to her son was enough to kick-start her aching brain once again and she rolled out of the way of the man’s next strike. It was a perfect tuck and roll, even if she was a little shaky as she popped back up on her feet. 

The man screamed like an animal and lunged toward Crissy just as she pushed up to her feet, knife held tightly in both hands. His scream died as the blade punched through his chest and into his lung. Board and body dropped to the ground as Crissy stepped back and away. Bile rose up her throat as she gazed down at the twitching man, clutching uselessly at the blade in his chest. His one good eye rolled, wide and afraid, to her face. 

She didn’t stick around to find out what he wanted to say, instead, she sprinted to the door and peeking out and around, sweeping the street. There was a group moving further down the road and Crissy recognized the third man, Shaun tossed carelessly over his shoulder. Another group was milling about just outside as some kind of guard. 

Drawing back, Crissy licked her lips and brought her bag close to her body. Inside she knew were several potent chemical compounds, several gas grenades, and more drugs than she would have ever been okay carrying before. These were snuggled up next to several nasty explosive charges, a few mines, and more than enough rounds for her Syringer. He neighbors in Sanctuary had been far from what she had ever suspected but she thanked each and every crazy individual for their contribution to keeping she and her son alive.

An idea itched at the back of Crissy’s brain as she thought about how she was going to get to Shaun. She would have to go through those at the front, but, really, it was much better that they took Shaun inside, he would be safer from an onslaught of chemical explosives. She could do this, she had to do this. 

It’s not long before Crissy is up on the roof, she’s a dozen mines lighter, having laid them around the entrance of the shop, and had begun emptying her entire collection of explosives and chemicals on the rooftop around her. Her crudely put together syringer rifle gleams in the midday sun and seems eager for some proper action. Crissy contemplates it for a moment. She was a doctor in the war, a trauma surgeon who had pulled far too many bullets out of human bodies. She knew the devastation they could cause. Headshots were beyond her, she didn’t have the practice. Besides, her ammo was anything but typical and a headshot would be too risky. She needed to aim for the meat of her targets, somewhere for her ammo to sink in and hold on.

The syringe needles gleamed back at her as she loaded them into the tray on her gun. With what she was using, hitting anywhere mildly important was going to be the end for whomever she shot. The lethal amount of fuel would ensure that their end was horribly painful. Crissy didn’t want for fancy shots, she just wanted for dead kidnappers. 

Crissy fingered over a grenade, modified from a gas grenade with a nasty little concoction meant to blind and disorient and chock. It was initially created in case of need for a speedy getaway. However, it was highly flammable, so, she was going to toss it and a Molotov to get the party started. 

“Nobody fucks with my baby.” Crissy hissed, standing up and edging to the far corner of the roof. Through her rifle, she lined up the crew below who was still relaxing, in no hurry or they had time to kill either way, they were grouped up perfectly in front of the museum. Anxiety grew in the pit of Crissy’s stomach as all the ways this could go wrong rocketed around in her brain and a small voice questioned the sanity of this action. Another voice promptly shut everything up, asking if she was really just going to abandon Shaun, her baby, her sunshine, her whole world?

Crissy moved away from her rifle’s sight and pulled the pin on the selected grenade. Tossing it in a stunning arc before she could rethink. She watching it catch the suns orange light and wink mildly back at her with a strange excitement. Acrid dark green smoke hissed from the grenade and just as the people below were jumping to their feet, the Molotov joined in and everything went **BANG!**


End file.
